Time Flies
by Gotbooks93
Summary: A series of outtakes for my other fic, "Time's Up." I strongly suggest you read that one first! AU, rated M for language, violence, and lemony goodness in future chapters. Read and Review!
1. Cara

Hello, everyone!

This outtake is for my Harry Potter fic, "Time's Up", which can be found on my profile. This chapter gives a little insight into Hermione and Blaise's earliest interactions, as I am rather reluctant with details in the main fic. I would not suggest this is read before the first several chapters of "Time's Up" but it's your life. Enjoy!

_**Disclaimer**__: I own many things, including a very large package of Ramen instant noodles. However, I do not own anyone or anything when it comes to the world of Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. The end. _

'_**Time's Up"- Outtake Number One**_

"Okay, settle down people. See, this is why I hate having such a big class- this many people are hard to control." Professor said dramatically. Her students laughed… all eight of them.

"Obviously, sixth year Arithmancy isn't the most popular class in the school. You are all here because you're serious about the subject, and not because this is a required class. As such, I expect the best work you can give me. I've seen what all of you are capable of doing, and I know how you work. However, instead of working alone, such as you have in years past, you'll be working in groups. Before you start trying to figure out who your partner will be, don't bother. I've already assigned the pairs."

Hermione was worried. She detested working with a partner, relying one someone else to help achieve her grade. She did a quick head count of the assembled students, and relaxed. She was the only Gryffindor in the class, along with two Hufflepuffs, four Ravenclaws, and a Slytherin. The chances of her getting matched to the Slytherin were still relatively high, but surely Professor Vector would see the potential disaster there.

"I'll read off the pairs I've selected. When you hear your partner's name, move to sit with them, and get to know them. You'll be working with them on two different projects this year, so I hope you like them. If not, get over it." With that statement, Vector began to read off the pairings.

"Blaise Zabini and Hermione Granger."

Horrified, Hermione sat frozen in her seat before turning slowly toward the back of the room. Blaise Zabini always sat in the back, no matter how many students were in the class.

'Just like a Slytherin.' Hermione thought spitefully.

As their eyes connected, Hermione couldn't help but notice the amber hue that lit Zabini's eyes. Giving a tiny smirk, the dark- haired boy crooked a finger at her, and Hermione bristled at the patronizing gesture. Angrily gathering up her things, she stormed to the top of the seats in the auditorium- style room. Slamming her books down next to him, Hermione fell into her chair, earning an amused look from Professor Vector.

"Well, isn't this a delight." A smooth, low voice said in her ear. Hermione jumped, never having heard Zabini talk before. "As overjoyed as I am to have the Gryffindor princess as a partner, I think maybe we should request a different pairing."

'His voice is like melted chocolate' thought Hermione in the back of her mind, just as she said "I completely agree. I'm sure Professor Vector made a mistake by pairing us together." Zabini gave a curt nod, and the pair stood. Hermione was somewhat startled about their vast height difference. Blaise was at least a foot taller that her, and easily outweighed her.

'For someone so tall, he sure is good at blending into the background.' Thought Hermione.

As they made their way over to the Professor's desk, Professor Vector glanced up, and held up her hand before they could even begin to speak.

"My pairings are final, you two. Live with it."

"But Professor, surely-" Hermione began, only to be cut off.

"My word is _final_, Miss Granger." Professor Vector said sternly.

With that, she stood up, and announced to the class that they were dismissed.

"We can meet on Wednesday in the library, near the Herbology section, and decide on our project topic." Zabini declared in his silky voice.

"What if I had class?" Hermione asked indignantly.

"You don't." said Zabini before he turned on his heal and left the classroom.

~(o)~

And so Wednesday nights were dedicated to the pursuit of an 'O' in Arithmancy. During class, Hermione and Blaise sat side by side, rarely talking. They would each find a portion of the project that needed to be calculated, and worked in near- silence for the entire class. The only exception to this quiet was when one of them requested a new sheet of parchment, or when they came to their final calculations.

They had decided upon the average grades of students, by year, as their topic. Their teachers obliged them their data, as long as the student's identities were anonymous. Hermione had been worried about getting the required data from Professor Snape, which Blaise had offered to collect. To her astonishment, he returned the next class with the data in hand, causing Hermione to let out a quiet, happy squeal. Blaise just looked at her strangely, but said nothing.

And that wasn't the only thing about Blaise Zabini that surprised her. While their classroom time was subdued and quiet, their evening library sessions held some variation. The change was subtle, so subtle that Hermione didn't notice it at first. Sitting at 'their table' near the Herbology section, Hermione and Blaise would continue to organize and calculate their data.

Usually, any words spoken would pertain strictly to the data. Hermione would comment on the trends she found in third year Transfiguration classes, and Blaise would idly remark on the upward slope of the fifth year's History of Magic grades.

But every now and then, usually near the end of their studies, Hermione would make an offhand mention of an essay due in Transfiguration, and Blaise would answer. Similarly, Blaise would make an observation about a potion they were brewing in class, and Hermione would agree or disagree with his observation. This often led to a spur-of-the-moment debate over the subject. Hermione relished the chance to stretch her mind with someone on her level.

Slowly, the subjects they discussed would no longer relate strictly to schoolwork. Their personal lives crept in.

One afternoon in early November, Hermione approached 'their' table, where Blaise had already settled in. Glancing up at her, he did a double take on her face. Her eyes were swollen and red, and her cheeks were a blotchy shade of pink. However, he refrained from commenting; knowing his pointing out Hermione's weakened state would only bring up her defenses. So the pair settled in to work on their project, most of which was very near to completion. As the sky grew dark, they began to collect their things. Blaise had just snapped his satchel closed when Hermione suddenly spun to face him.

"I had a fight with Ron." She said, instantly wishing she could suck the words back into her mouth. More than anything, she feared Blaise's ridicule.

"Ah, and what has the Weasel done this time?" he asked, staring steadily at her.

"It's that stupid cow, Lavender. She takes up all his time, and when I mentioned Ron hadn't been around much, he saw it as an attack on their _relationship_. Said I was jealous. As if I could be jealous of that airhead!" Hermione worked hard to inject a note of incredulousness into her voice in an effort to cover up the very real hurt.

"Hermione," Blaise said gently, "Neither that redheaded dunderhead, nor his harlot of a girlfriend is worth your notice. If he has any sense, he'll come to realize the value of your friendship. If not, you're better off without him. Now, dry your eyes and blow your nose. Being found in this state is going to feed the rumor mill, not starve it." He handed her his own handkerchief, which had the Zabini crest embroidered into the corner.

Hermione gratefully took the cloth, mopping her face. Quickly casting a _scourigfy_ the wet cloth, Hermione handed it back to Blaise.

"Keep it," he said, refusing the now- clean handkerchief. "In case tears come upon you between here and your tower."

Hermione glanced up at his face, only to find him turned slightly away. Was that a blush staining his cheeks?

Hermione carefully folded the handkerchief before stowing in the pocket of her robes. "Thank you, Blaise- for the comfort and the hankie." With that, she turned and walked briskly away.

Blaise was left to see her stride out of the library, and out of sight.

What he didn't know, however, was that his handkerchief found itself under Hermione's pillow for the rest of the year, ready for lonely nights in Gryffindor tower.

~(o)~

Two days before the Yule holidays, Professor Vector was only vaguely surprised to find several of her sixth year students hovering around her office door. Giving a wan smile, she chuckled.

"If you're here for the grades to your term projects, they will be given to you only if you are a part of the group. Now, Miss Granger, would you like to get your grade first?"

Hermione nodded hurriedly, following Professor Vector into her office.

"And where is Mr. Zabini?" her instructor inquired, raising a brow.

"Oh, he's in an extended lab for Potions." Hermione said quickly, "I'll tell Blaise as soon as he finishes."

Vector refrained from cheering. If Hermione was referring to Mr. Zabini as 'Blaise' then her plan had worked. In an effort to bring the similarly-minded students together, she had paired them with high hopes. It looked like those hopes had paid off. She quickly gave Hermione the filled-out grading rubric, and called for the next student to enter.

Hurrying to the library, Hermione forced herself not to open the envelope which contained their grade. She made her way to the back of the room, praying that Blaise hadn't been kept over-long during his lab time.

But no, he was there, slouched in one of the chairs at the table, his left ankle braced over his right leg. He was reading, and only glanced up when she was a few feet away. Even though they had completed their project two weeks ago, Hermione and Blaise continued to meet to do homework, study, and talk. Hermione relished Blaise's company, and his opinions on various topics.

"Is that…" Blaise trailed off, his eyes fixed on the envelope in her hand.

"Yes. I heard Vector was giving them out early, so I went to get ours." Hermione replied quickly.

"Well?" Blaise asked, sitting up straight.

"Oh, I haven't opened it yet. Too nervous. You do it!"

"Coward. What kind of Gryffindor are you?"

"Don't call me that! Oh, fine, okay. On the count of three. One…"

"Two…"

"Three!" Hermione ripped the envelope open, scanning the page. Her eyes rested on a part near the bottom, and she was quiet for several seconds.

"Hermione?" Blaise asked worriedly, standing up and putting his hands on her shoulders. "Hermione, it's not the end of the world, I'm sure she had a good reason for her grading-"

He was suddenly cut off when Hermione threw her arms around him, a loud squeal escaping her lips. "Oh, Blaise, we did it! We got an O!" she squealed, earning a loud "Shhh!" from Madam Prince.

Holding Hermione in his arms, his brain barely registered her words. Putting on a broad smile when she pulled back, he congratulated her on their combined efforts. The pair sat down at the table, going over various parts of their grading. It wasn't until nine o'clock, when the library was starting to close, that the pair wandered out from the back recesses of the stacks.

"Are you going away for the holidays, then?" Hermione inquired, glancing at the tall, dark haired boy next to her.

"Unfortunately, yes." He replied, his tone resigned.

"I would have thought that you would be excited to see your mother." Hermione mentioned.

"I am. However, I suspect Husband Number Seven will be there, as well. I can't wait until Mother takes care of him. He's such a pompous fool; she'll be doing the rest of the world a favor." His tone was dry, waiting for her indignant squawk. He was not disappointed.

"Blaise Zabini!" Hermione reprimanded, only to stop herself when she saw his shoulders shaking with laughter. Swatting his larger arm with her hand, she tried to suppress her own giggles.

"Ah, _cara_, never change." Blaise said, unintentionally invoking the Italian word for 'darling'. Hermione was laughing in earnest, now, and didn't seem to catch his slip-up, much to his relief.

"Well, I better be getting back to Gryffindor tower before curfew." Hermione said, giggles still occasionally slipping out. She glanced over her shoulder as she began to walk away, looking back at her dark Slytherin.

"Goodnight, Blaise." She said softly.

"Sleep well, Hermione." he replied, turning and walking towards the dungeons. He had a letter to write to the goblins.

Hey Guys,

Well, what did you think? I'm quite anxious about the response to this outtake, as the timeline is rather rushed. But let me know in a review, and I'll continue to post more outtakes on "Time Flies". Between you and me, I have several already written, and they only get better from here. So let me know; positive reviews boost my self-confidence!

Peace out,

Gotbooks93


	2. Christmas

Hello, everyone!

This outtake is for my Harry Potter fic, "Time's Up", which can be found on my profile. This gives a little insight into Hermione and Blaise's early relationship, and takes place half-way into their sixth year. I would not suggest this is read before the first several chapters of "Time's Up" but it's your life. Enjoy!

_**Disclaimer**__: I own many things, including a Chuck Norris poster, which I keep up for inspiration. However, I do not own anyone or anything when it comes to the world of Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. The end. _

'_**Time's Up"- Outtake Number Two**_

Hermione woke, stretching languidly in her bed. Her joints popped, and Crookshanks gave a loud meow in protest to her movement. Relaxing back into the mattress, she took a moment to gather her thoughts. She stared at the crimson draperies that surrounded her bed, and realized a rather exciting fact: today was Christmas.

Quickly sitting up, she threw back the bed hangings and bounded from the bed. There, sitting on her trunk at the foot of the bed, were her presents. There were around a dozen of them in all, ranging in size and color. She was glad Lavender and Parvati had both gone home for the holiday, as her pouncing on the gifts like a six year old probably would have caused some embarrassment.

The first gift was a large, lumpy affair, wrapped in green and gold paper. Instantly recognizing the package was a Molly Weasley arrangement, she quickly threw on the dark red sweater inside, and popped a caramel treat in her mouth. Chewing slowly, she continued to open her presents. From her parents, she had received a silver necklace with a small, blue sapphire, her birthstone. In a smaller, attached box, she found a new collar for Crookshanks, also silver in color, with "Crookshanks" and "Property of H. Granger" inscribed into the surface. Smiling, Hermione coaxed her half- kenezle familiar into the collar.

"You look positively dashing, Crooks." Hermione told the disgruntled cat.

Hermione also received a collection of joke products from 'Gred and Forge Weasley', and a new wand holster from Remus and Tonks. She opened a pretty turquoise scarf from Ginny, and a renewed subscription notice from _The Daily Prophet _from Neville. She was surprised to find a kit of exotic potions ingredients from Viktor Krum. A small set of makeup came from Lavender, with '_To go with Parvati's present_' scribbled on the outside.

Opening a pretty charm bracelet from Luna, she read the attach note: '_Guaranteed to keep the Divarian Hopwinks well away. Love, Luna_'. Smiling at her strange friend's protective nature, she turned to the small stack of rectangular objects next to her bed.

They were all obviously books, and she knew at least two of them were from Harry and Ron- they never were very handy with wrapping paper. Ron had gotten her a copy of _Quidditch for Beginners_ and Harry got her an updated version of _Hogwarts, a History_. Parvati's gift turned out to be a book on makeup and hair care, explaining Lavender's note. The final gift was from Dumbledore, a set of 'Mood Socks', which supposedly changed color with one's emotions.

Gathering up the discarded wrapping paper, Hermione stopped at as a long, tube- shaped gift came into view. It had been knocked to the floor by other presents. Sitting down carefully, she opened the attached envelope, and began to read.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Merry Christmas. While I am not there to celebrate it with you, I still wished to convey my deepest hope for your happiness this holiday season. _

_Against my original expectations, I have come to value your friendship and company above almost all others. Our time spent together this term has earned a fond place in my memories, and I hope to add to those memories in the future. _

_The enclosed gift is rather deceiving in appearance. I would suggest you look at the book _Magic and Moving by Beatrice Fitzgerald_, chapter six, to understand the gift's true potential. Hopefully, you'll find this scavenger hunt for information entertaining rather than frustrating. If not, the end result it worth it, I promise. I look forward to enjoying the present with you. Again, happy holidays._

Fino ad incontrare nuovamente, con affetto,

_Blaise Alexander Zabini_

This mysterious message had Hermione scrambling to put on proper clothes. Throwing on jeans, her new sweater, and trainers, she grabbed Blaise's gift on her way out the door. Rushing down the stairs and through the common room, she threw a "Be back in a bit!" over her shoulder to Harry and Ron, who were seated on a couch by the fire, surrounded by discarded wrapping paper.

Hermione flew down the corridors and staircases, anxious to get to the library. Blaise was right, she did find the "scavenger hunt for knowledge" to be both amusing and entertaining.

Quickly finding the book, Hermione settled into her seat at 'their' table near the Herbology section. Placing the still- wrapped item next to her book, she began to read. The first chapter discussed the various modes of transportation in the wizarding world, for witches, wizards, magical beings, and objects. Flipping to the sixth chapter, she found an in- depth look at transporting inanimate items:

_During the 18__th__ century, wizard- kind began to discover the ability to transport items from one area to another by magical means. While owls and floo calls remain the most popular mode of communication, several objects were created to find alternate means. _

_In 1788, Goblins were commissioned to make several valuable artifacts, such as two- way mirrors, recording earrings, vanishing cabinets, and scroll zappers. While only a few of these artifacts were originally made, wizards managed to duplicate them, to an extent. _

_Each replication of the items made the copy less reliable, until they possessed little to no magic. Research tells us that the first dozen copies of each artifact were perfect, with their additional copies decreasing in productivity, and thus, value. _

The following pages gave descriptions on each type of transportation item, and Hermione sat the book aside. Reaching for the gift with shaking fingers, she carefully pulled back the wrapping paper until the gift lay exposed. The item was a long, thin tube. It was no longer than her forearm, and thin enough for her to wrap her fingers completely around it. It was polished grey in color, and Hermione noticed a small clasp at the top of the tube. Opening it, a rolled-up piece of parchment fell into her hand.

_Hermione-_

_By now, I'm sure you've already read the proscribed chapter. This is one of the first dozen copies of a scroll zapper ever made. It was sitting in a Zabini vault in South America, and I decided to brush it off and get some use out of it. _

_When you have a finished parchment for me to read, open the tube, slip it in, and close the top with the clasp. I will receive the letter within seconds, using the other zapper of the set. It's very important that nothing besides the desired parchment is in the tube, as an explosion is likely to occur. Alas, not all instruments can be perfect. _

_-B_

_PS: Thank you for my gift. Yours was, by far, the most thoughtful. I've already begun to read it, and find myself fascinated. You're a real 'friend'. _

Hermione was shocked. He had gotten her a lovely, thoughtful, extravagant gift. For a moment, she warred with the idea of returning it to him upon his arrival.

'But he wouldn't give it to me if he planned to use it with someone else.' Hermione debated with herself. 'Although, this doesn't make my gift seem all that special.'

Hermione had gotten a copy of _Magical Law and Government: A Guide _by Samuel McNewmara, with the author's signature inside. With a stroke of luck, Hermione had run into the prestigious author at the bookstore, and all but begged him to sign it.

"And who am I making this out to?" he had asked, glancing up at Hermione.

"His name is Blaise. He's quite fascinated by law. I think he'd make an excellent lawyer." Hermione replied. She knew if Blaise ever heard her gushing like this, he'd tease her mercilessly.

"Oh? And is this Blaise a friend? Or something more?" he smiled at Hermione, noting the slight blush that stained her cheeks.

"Oh, no, we're just friends." Hermione said hurriedly, blushing harder.

McNewmara made a disbelieving noise, and finished the message inside, signing his name with a flourish.

Several hours later, Hermione curiously opened the inside cover, reading the inscribed message.

_Blaise,_

_I'm happy to hear of your interest in magical law. Merlin knows we need good lawyers in the world! Work hard, and don't let anyone discourage you from your dreams._

_Sincerely, _

_S. McNewmara_

_PS: Keep a good hold of your 'friend'. She's a keeper. _

Mortified by the post- script, Hermione contemplated getting giving Blaise an unsigned copy of the book instead. However, she ended up giving him the signed copy in the end, thinking that Blaise would find humor in the inscription. According to his message, he had. Wanker.

~(o)~

Hours later, Hermione rested in her room. Stuffed with food from the Christmas feast, she was just drifting off to sleep when she remembered her gift from Blaise.

Walking over to her desk, Hermione pulled out a blank parchment and a quill, and began to write.

_Dear Blaise…_

…_._

Author's Note:

Hi guys!

So, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, which is really pure fluff. I had fun writing it, and hope it came out okay. Not a lot of dialogue, so I hope no one was too terribly bored.

I'm so excited for next chapter. I have it written, and it's got a bit of lemony goodness at the end. So keep an eye out for that one.

Leave me a review, because I love them. Update on Thursday!

xoxo,

Gotbooks93.


	3. Correspondence

Hello, everyone!

This outtake is for my Harry Potter fic, "Time's Up", which can be found on my profile. This gives a little insight into Hermione and Blaise's early relationship, and takes during the summer between sixth and seventh year. I would not suggest this is read before the first several chapters of "Time's Up" but it's your life. _Please note that his particular outtake has some writing of the citrus variety, and is thus rated M_. Enjoy!

_**Disclaimer**__: I own many things, including an unfinished anthropology paper that I should be working on instead of posting this. However, I do not own anyone or anything when it comes to the world of Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. The end. _

'_**Time's Up"- Outtake Number Three**_  
><em>To: Blaise Zabini<em>  
><em>Gaeland Manor, England.<em>  
><em> 15 June, 11:03 a.m.<em>  
><em>Dear Blaise, <em>  
><em>Hello! In an effort to fulfill your request that I write "whenever I get the time" I've decided to make the first effort, in hopes that you will respond.<em>  
><em>How are things on your side of the country? I imagine your mother was quite pleased to see you again, even if Husband Number Seven (or is it eight?) isn't. If I were you, I would make a point to walk in at inopportune moments whenever possible. Perhaps that will teach him not to make snide comments about your returning presence to the house… looking back on that sentence, I am a little shocked at how positively Slytherin I sound. It looks like you're rubbing off on me. Aren't you proud?<em>  
><em>As much as you wish you were at your own Zabini manor, I must insist you take advantage of your stepfather's home and enjoy all the amenities it has to offer. If I remember correctly, you mentioned it had a rather large library. If H.N.7 is as much as an idiot as you profess him to be, it's unlikely the room gets many visitors.<em>  
><em>I heard from Harry that Draco Malfoy has received a new racing broom for Quidditch next year. This, naturally, has sent Harry into an absolute frenzy, while Ron insists his Firebolt is still the best broom out there. All Harry talks about is Quidditch during the upcoming school year, and how much he wants to win. Secretly, I am a little worried about Harry being Gryffindor's team captain again this year. By the sound of it, he plans to drill the team so hard, he'll surpass Oliver Wood's legacy. Although, if Malfoy is appointed Slytherin's captain, there is no doubt of Gryffindor having 5-day-a-week practices, a la Wood.<em>  
><em>How you can remain friends with Malfoy, I will never understand. He's rude, arrogant, and cruel and- well, I suppose you don't want to hear any of this, do you? Let's move on to more pleasant things, shall we?<em>  
><em>Mum and Dad have their annual dentistry conference next week, and continue to try to get me to go. However, I find myself more inclined to stay home, due to the experience gained in previous years. The conference is held in Cornwall, and they encourage me to visit the beach while they're in lecture sessions. While the beaches are sublime and the water pleasant, the company is not.<em>  
><em>When there are no screaming children running around, there are small groups of perverted teenage boys, who use scuba gear to look at the assets of the girls underwater. Last year, with the help of some similarly angered teenage girls, we struck against several of these groups. One of us served as a distraction, while the other girls hit the boys with various heavy objects from behind. While this strategy proved to be ultimately satisfying and promoted several close pen- friend relationships, I think I would rather be 'safe than sorry' and stay home.<em>  
><em>In other news, I have received my scores on my exams. All O's, much to Mum and Dad's delight. They've offered to buy me an owl as a reward, but I declined. Between our scroll zappers, Hedwig, and Pig, I find myself rather disinclined to acquire a winged messenger.<em>  
><em>Speaking of mail, I've had a letter from Remus Lupin this week. Apparently Professor Dumbledore is recovering nicely from Snape's attack on the astronomy tower. How the headmaster survived, I will never know. However, Remus says "the headmaster will be re-instated in his position during the upcoming school year." This came as quite a relief for me, for I feared another Ministry appointed idiot would take over as Headmaster. The last thing we need is another Umbridge.<em>  
><em>I imagine you've been following the progressively aggressive attacks by Death Eaters. Although <em>The Daily Prophet_ continues to present bias views of the attacks, I've been grateful for my subscription. Watching the muggle news and reading wizarding news has become a topic of interest for both myself and my parents. _  
><em>But, Blaise, I can't see the delay in this war stretching out for much longer, and I confess myself to be afraid. Not very Gryffindor of me, but by looking at the accounts of wars past, I have little hope that everyone will make it unscathed.<em>  
><em>And look, I have once again dropped into dreary topics. Perhaps you should revoke your invitation to write this summer, as I don't seem to be a very pleasant correspondent.<em>  
><em>In truth, I miss you terribly. It's only been a week since school let out, but I continually find myself thinking, "wait until I tell Blaise!" only to remember we won't be meeting at the end of the day. I miss your voice, your opinions, and your company. I miss your touch, the way you hold me when you kiss me. I miss your hands moving down my body, intent on making me see stars. I miss your-<em>  
><em>Oh, will you listen to me? I imagine this is what Lavender Brown sounds like when she writes to "Won Won". I'm telling you, Blaise, much more of this…deprivation, and I might have to take things into my own hands *wink*<em>  
><em>Leaving that imagine in your mind, I must go. Write back soon.<em>  
><em>With love, <em>  
><em>Hermione<em>

_TO: Hermione Granger_  
><em> 8732 Virginia Road, Oxford, England<em>  
><em> 16 June, 3:55 p.m.<em>  
><em>My darling Hermione, <em>  
><em>I swear, you just like to vex me. The conclusion to your last letter left me in quite a state. However, if I continue to write on this topic, I will find myself in a highly uncomfortable situation, as I am currently writing in my mother's drawing room, while she has tea with her friends.<em>  
><em>In response to your letter, I must disappoint you. I am indeed wishing I was of age, and could reside at Zabini manor, for life here is usually both dreadfully dull and astonishingly monotonous. Husband Number Seven continues to make disparaging remarks, but I plan to take your advice and make his life as miserable as possible.<em>  
><em>Indeed, the library here is both impressive and deserted, and is the only room in the manor that I don't particularly mind. The manor's house elves seem to detest my presence in any other room, so I find myself taking refuge among the books more often than not. In response to Gaeland manor's house elves' neglect, the elves from Zabini manor have come to my rescue. They outnumber Gaeland's elves, and insist they have the right to be here, due to my own presence. This proves to be a source of great amusement to myself, as I often see signs of their warfare.<em>  
><em>The other night, a plate of dinner (grilled tuna over a bed of spinach salad, and a side of grilled goat cheese) appeared in front of me. Just as I picked up my knife and fork, the plate disappeared, to be replaced by a grilled cheese sandwich. Puzzled, I set down my utensils, and reached for the sandwich. Just before I could touch it, it was replaced by the original plate of tuna and goat's cheese. This switch happened several times more before two house elves apparated into the room. I recognized one of them as my own, named Lonnie, but was unfamiliar with the second elf. Upon closer inspection, I saw the Gaeland family crest on her pillowcase. The two elves were screaming at each other, and continued to do so until I stood. It turned out that the Gaeland elves were dead- set on serving me a sandwich, while my own elves thought me worthy of a more extravagant meal.<em>  
><em>The matter was eventually solved, and I ate the tuna and goat cheese, much to Lonnie's satisfaction. As far as I am aware, the elve's feud continues, although they seem to have declared my food off- limits.<em>  
><em>As for Draco and his new broom, yes it is true. He sent me an owl the same day he got it, and has declared it to be "the fastest broom on the market- or, at least fast enough to beat Potter's firebolt". As you know, I find myself disinterested with Quidditch and its politics, although I admit the occasional game can be quite exciting. And yes, I am choosing to ignore your comment about Draco. If you had been friends with him as long as I have, you would realize his loyalty and wit is hard to match, even among Gryffindors.<em>  
><em>While I would love to encourage you to seek sun and sand in Cornwall, the idea of you being surrounded by underwater perverts contrasts my idea of a good time. Besides, I've seen the muggle version of a bathing suit, especially the item I believe is called a 'bikini'. While the idea of you modeling such a scandalous outfit for me peaks my interest, the idea of other men seeing you in one only peaks my jealousy and rage. Feel free to go to the beaches anyway, but don't be surprised if I show up to cart you off "caveman style", as you call it.<em>  
><em>I, too, have received my exam results and find that they match your own. You have my congratulations and praise, as well as my amusement. I believe that I told you, repeatedly, that you did not fail your exams, as you predicted in the haze of your testing anxiety. Looks like I was right.<em>  
><em>Yes, I have been keeping up with the Dark Lord's activities. The latest attack on that muggle bookstore in London has me worried, as a foreign wizard was killed in the attack. Apparently the Death Eaters care little for the anger of other countries, which makes me think they have a weapon we don't know about. Draco has confided in me that Death Eaters will begin to recruit at Hogwarts this year, and I fear for both Draco and myself. While I have the option of remaining neutral, due to my Italian heritage, his family is so wrapped up in the Dark Arts that there is little hope for him, no matter what his personal opinions are. Now, if only I could convince you to come abroad with me, and leave this pending war behind. I know your hackles are raised at the very suggestion, but the idea of you in this god- forsaken war has me filled with anxiety. <em>Cara_, please re-consider your stance. I suspect that you will give me a flat 'no' in your next letter, but I digress._  
><em>I find absolutely no interest in discontinuing our correspondence this summer, and will ask you not to mention the idea again. I miss you horribly already, and think I might go mad if I were to lose your written words, as well. Well, okay, I wouldn't go mad, but I might do something drastic… like ask you to meet me in London this Saturday, at the Rose and Crown for dinner? Say, seven o'clock? I hear they make a fabulous caramel desert, and I know how much you like that particular sweet. The risks of being sighted are much lower, as it is a muggle establishment, and I could take you out for a night on the town, for once. What do you say?<em>  
><em>I plan to go stay with a friend this week, and will consequently be busy for most of it. However, I'm bringing my zapper with me, and look forward to your letter.<em>  
><em>Finally, I must conclude with my own yearnings to see you. <em>Cara_, I miss you in so many ways. I miss the sweet sound of your laugh, and the wit of your conversation. I miss running my fingers through your wild, curly hair. I miss the feeling I get whenever I look at you, and the rush of warmth I feel when I catch you looking at me. I miss the intoxicating feeling of your lips on mine, and the feel of your breasts in my hands. Perhaps most of all, I miss your tight-_  
><em>Looks like I have encountered my own physical… problem. Must go take an ice cold shower, before any of Mother's friends notice the tightness of my trousers.<em>  
>Te amo<em>,<em>  
><em>Blaise<em>

_TO: Blaise Zabini_  
><em> The home of whatever unnamed friend he is staying with, presumably in England<em>  
><em> June 20th, 7:06 p.m.<em>  
><em>Blaise,<em>  
><em>And you accuse me of being unfairly seductive in my letter! After your last, I had to fan myself with the parchment, I was so worked up. Although, knowing you, you included that last paragraph for that very purpose.<em>  
><em>To respond to the comments and inquiries made in your last letter: <em>  
><em>1. Caramel, you say? Yes, I would be delighted to meet you at the Rose and Crown for dinner. I know there are some lovely gardens close by. What about an evening walk after dinner? My parents left to Cornwall this morning, I am consequently free for the night. Use your imagination.<em>  
><em>2. As I stated above, I will not be going with my parents to their conference. As such, I will not require your caveman duties, as tempting as they are. I do indeed possess several bikinis, and would be pleased to model them for you. There's a green one in particular that I think you would enjoy…<em>  
><em>3. Congratulations on the scores on your exams. Unfortunately, not all of us are born with the ability to be stone cold in the face of very important tests. I'm sticking my tongue out at you right now, in case you wanted to know.<em>  
><em>4. You were right; I have absolutely <em>_NO__ interest in fleeing to Italy with you. Blaise, I'm a muggleborn, and this war is being headed by a muggle- hating psychopath hell bent on exterminating people like me. If there's even one little thing I can do to help to win the war, I have every intention of doing it. So stop trying to get me to run away, as it is NOT GOING TO WORK._  
><em>Now, look what you've done. I'm entirely too upset to leave you with some sexy statement that will have your mother's friends talking. What a shame.<em>  
><em>Hermione<em>

_TO: Hermione Granger_  
><em> 8732 Virginia Road, Oxford, England<em>  
><em> June 2oth, 7:10 p.m.<em>  
><em>Hermione,<em>  
><em>I can tell you're still holding onto the zapper, the light on mine is glowing. You know I didn't suggest you accompany me to Italy to make you seem like a coward. The idea of you fighting in this war worries me more than you know. Please write back.<em>  
><em>Blaise<em>

_TO: Blaise Zabini_  
><em> Possibly still at one of his mate's homes, or maybe not, as he still hasn't told me where he is, or who he's staying with.<em>  
><em> June 2oth, 7:12 p.m.<em>  
><em>Blaise,<em>  
><em>Weather you meant it or not, it still hurt my feelings. I'm proud to be a muggleborn, and refuse to run away when things get dangerous. Muggles have a saying for times like these: "When the going gets tough, the tough get going" and Blaise, I plan to get going.<em>  
><em>Hermione<em>

_TO: Hermione Granger_  
><em> 8732 Virginia Road, Oxford, England<em>  
><em> 7:19 p.m.<em>  
><em>Hermione,<em>  
><em>There's another saying: "It is better to turn back in the middle of the ford than to be drown in the flood." Hermione, please, I'm begging you. Leave this war behind before it really starts. We could bring your parents with us, and wait until it's over to go back, should your Boy Wonder defeat the Dark Lord. Please.<em>  
><em>Blaise<em>

_TO: Blaise Zabini_  
><em> SOMEWHERE OUT THERE, BECAUSE HE STILL HASN'T TOLD ME WHERE<em>  
><em> 7:26 p.m.<em>  
><em>Blaise,<em>  
><em>I'm done talking about this. The answer is NO.<em>  
><em>Hermione<em>  
><em>PS: Why haven't you answered my questions about who you're staying with?<em>

_TO: Hermione Granger_  
><em> 8732 Virginia Road, Oxford, England<em>  
><em> 7:28 p.m.<em>  
><em>Hermione,<em>  
><em>Fine, I'll drop it…for now.<em>  
><em>I won't be telling you who I'm staying with- you wouldn't react well. Please just let it go, for both our sakes.<em>  
><em>Blaise<em>

_TO: Blaise Zabini_  
><br>_ 7:31 p.m._  
><em>Blaise,<em>  
><em>At the risk of sounding like a jealous cow, I have to ask you something:<em>  
><em>Are you staying with another girl?<em>  
><em>Hermione<em>

_TO: Blaise Zabini_  
><em> At some boyfriend- stealing cow's house<em>  
><em> 7:47 p.m.<em>  
><em>Dear Blaise,<em>  
><em>Oh, God, it is a girl, isn't it? Okay. Well, that's your decision. I hope she realizes how lucky she is.<em>  
><em>Sincerely,<em>  
><em>Hermione Granger<em>

_TO: Hermione Granger, the most ridiculous girlfriend on the planet._  
><em> 8732 Virginia Road, Oxford, England<em>  
><em> 7:48 p.m.<em>  
><em>Hermione,<em>  
><em>As stated above, you are ridiculous. Yes, I am staying at a friend's house, and she happens to be a female. However, I have a strictly platonic relationship with her. As if any other girl besides you could spark my interest. If that doesn't set your mind at ease, this should: she plays for the other team.<em>  
><em>With all my love,<em>  
><em>Blaise<em>

_TO: Blaise Zabini, who continues to be mysterious._  
><em> Location: Unknown.<em>  
><em> 7:50 p.m.<em>  
><em>Blaise,<em>  
><em>While I am relieved to hear your friend is uninterested in you sexually, I am confused by your continued mysteriousness where her name is involved. Perhaps I could peak your interest with some play by play goings on in my bedroom, in exchange for her name? Firstly, I'm wearing a matching set of underwear, which happen to be green satin with silver lace…<em>  
><em>Spill, monkey boy.<em>  
><em>Hermione<em>

_TO: Hermione Granger, of the green underclothes_  
><em> Her bedroom, a place I dearly wish to be at the moment<em>  
><em> 7:51 p.m.<em>  
><em>Hermione,<em>  
><em>It's Pansy Parkinson, okay?<em>  
><em>Now, continue.<em>  
><em>Blaise<em>

_TO: Blaise Zabini_  
><em> Parkinson Manor<em>  
><em> 7:56 p.m.<em>  
><em>PARKINSON IS A LESBIAN?<em>  
><em>Hermione<em>

_TO: Hermione Granger, who better get moving, or else._  
><em> 8732 Virginia Road, Oxford, England<em>  
><em> 7:59 p.m.<em>  
><em>Hermione,<em>  
><em>Yes, although she would rather keep it under wraps. According to her, "It's quite easy to hook up with another girl on the sly, especially when half of the school thinks you're going after their boyfriends."<em>  
><em>Now, I believe our deal was I gave a name, and your clothes start coming off. Get to it.<em>  
><em>Blaise<em>

_TO: Blaise Zabini, who is apparently a slave to his hormones_  
><em> Parkinson Manor<em>  
><em> 8:15 p.m.<em>  
><em>Blaise,<em>  
><em>Very well, if you insist. Now, where was I? Oh, yes.<em>  
><em>I'm lying on my bed with only my bra and knickers on. The window is open a little, allowing a breeze in, which gently plays with my hair. If I close my eyes, I can pretend it's your finger, tracing the skin just above my breasts.<em>  
><em>I quickly unsnap the clasp to my bra, still pretending it's your hands instead of my own. My- <em>your_ hands remove my bra, and begin to play with my nipples, which are pebbled under your touch. Your tugs get gradually harsher, until they roll and tug the pink buds without mercy. Leaving my left breast bereft and alone, you use both hands on my right breast. One continues to pluck the swollen pink bud, while the other gently rolls flesh around it, massaging it in your large, strong hand. Just when I think I'm going to cum with just this, the attention is quickly switched to my left breast. This continues until I'm crying out, begging you to fill me._  
><em>(My fingers are too small to fill me the way you do, but a toy from my drawer does the job. Thank Ginny Weasley for my last birthday present.)<em>  
><em>Your palm slides down my belly, to the hot, wet place between my thighs. My feet lay flat against the bed, bending my legs at the knee. You roughly shove them wide, taking your place between them. Giving my clit a quick lick, and I nearly explode from the feeling of the rough pad of your tongue scraping over my slick flesh.<em>  
><em>Soon, too soon, your head moves back up my body until it teases the flesh at my throat, licking and sucking. Marking me as your own.<em>  
><em>Your fingers, however, have stayed behind, and roughly work inside of me until my quim is nearly gushing with cream. Gathering some of that cream on your fingers, you lick them clean right before you smash your mouth onto mine; I can taste myself on your lips.<em>  
><em>Then, just as I'm about to fall off the precipice I'm balanced on, you roughly plunge into me, your long, thick cock filling and stretching me almost painfully. This sends me over the edge, the feel of you buried deeply inside of me.<em>  
><em>You work me through my orgasm, plunging in and out of me. This continues for a blissful eternity until I clench my inner muscles around you, milking you for all you're worth. We fall over the edge together this time, and I can feel the scorching hot seed you spill inside of me. I scream your name as I fall into the abyss. You don't pull out of me for a long time, but cradle my body with your own when you do.<em>  
><em>…<em>  
><em>So, how did I do, Mr. Zabini?<em>  
><em>Hermione<em>

_TO: Hermione Granger_  
><em>Her bedroom, where the security wards better be OPEN<em>  
><em> I don't fucking care what time it is, I'm coming over.<em>  
><em>Blaise<em>

*********************************************************************  
><em>TO: Blaise Zabini<em>  
><em> Gaeland manor, England<em>  
><em> June 21st, 11:00 a.m.<em>  
><em>Blaise,<em>  
><em>Thank you for last night, it was amazing. I according to the little boy next door, I was "walking funny" this morning when I went to check the mail. I'm sure this will only boost your ego, but I am currently too blissed out to care.<em>  
><em>I understand your early morning departure, and love the rose and note you left behind. The rose is currently sitting on my desk, where I can see it and be reminded of…well, you know.<em>  
><em>I will see you tomorrow night at the Rose and Crown, at seven o'clock.<em>  
><em>Much love,<em>  
><em>Hermione<em>  
><em>PS: I hope you're taking special care with those letters. If your mother or, God forbid, Malfoy were to come across them…I don't even want to think about that. Please put them somewhere safe and <em>hidden. _Or else. –H_

…...

Author's Note:

Not bad for my first lemon, eh? (In truth, I'm just trying to play it off like I don't care. In reality, I'm terrified of the possibility that it's horrible.)

I know someone is going to comment on Hermione's OOC behavior, particularly at the end. However, I see it like this: when JK Rowling wrote Hermione's character, there was no smokin' hot Blaise Zabini around to keep her seventeen- year- old hormones company. However, there is one in my fic, and so Hermione is a little more sexual as a result.

So there you go. Let me know what you thought in a review! I think the next outtake update will be…soon-ish. I already have it written, but something needs to happen in "Time's Up" before I can post it, and not give anything away.

Be safe,

Gotbooks93


	4. Commitment

Hello, everyone!

This outtake is for my Harry Potter fic, "Time's Up", which can be found on my profile. This gives another peek into the early lives of Blaise and Hermione, occurring after the last two outtakes. I would not suggest this is read before the first several chapters of "Time's Up" but it's your life. Enjoy!

_**Disclaimer**__: I own many things, including a vending card that needs to be re-charged, so I can do my laundry. However, I do not own anyone or anything when it comes to the world of Harry Potter. JK Rowling does. The end. _

'_**Time's Up"- Outtake Number Three**_

It was September 20th, and Blaise was eighteen years old. His final year at Hogwarts had started less than three weeks prior, and he was already breaking the rules- in a big way. Looking around the alley he had just apparated into, he took a minute to orient himself. Or at least attempt to.

He was deep in the heart of Muggle London, somewhere he wouldn't normally be caught dead. But it was a special occasion, and he didn't want to disappoint her. Love made people do crazy things.

Causally stepping onto the street, he searched for a street sign. At the end of the road, the signs designated it was the intersection of F Street and Laurence Avenue. She had written that they would meet at G Street and Nightingale Road, and he set off.

It was a Hogsmead weekend for Hogwarts students, and it had been surprisingly easy to slip behind a building and apparate into London. They both had their licenses, being born so early in the school year, and as long as they were both back in the castle by dark, the faculty had no reason to check their apparition logs.

Finally coming to the intersection of G and Nightingale, he looked around for his companion. While looking around, he recognized the area. A few streets away was The Leaky Cauldron, where the sunshine became scarce and shadows obscured the strange, non- muggle attire found on its patrons.

Suddenly, there was a small, gentle hand on his arm. Fighting the automatic reflex to bring his wand out of his pocket and hex someone, he turned to face Hermione Granger.

"_Buongiorno__, cara_." (Hello, darling) He greeted her, drawing her into his arms. The September air was quite a bit cooler than usual, and both the teens were in heavy coats.

"Good morning, Blaise." Hermione returned softly, suddenly shy. It always amused him that she was so shy about physical affection with him. One of his favorite things to do was drawing his little lioness out to play.

"Did you get lost at all?" she asked, looking up at him with those dark, beautiful eyes.

Cocking an eyebrow, he smirked. "Please, _cara_. You're insulting my intelligence."

Hermione giggled, a rare sound coming from her usually serious mouth. Tightening his hold on her, he leaned down, kissing her forehead. To the few muggles on the street, they seemed like just another young couple in love. None of them knew the relationship had the potential to end fatally.

If anyone from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardary ever saw Hermione Granger in the arms of Blaise Zabini, there would be all- out warfare among the houses. Hermione was categorized as a muggleborn witch, a Gryffindor, the best friend of Harry Potter, and one of the Golden Trio. Blaise was seen as a dangerous pureblood Slytherin, nee- deep in the Dark Arts, no doubt.

Even as he held her, Blaise was on constant alert for anyone looking a little too closely at them, and soon became restless, standing exposed on the sidewalk.

"So, where am I taking you?" he inquired as she took his hand, pulling him further down the street. They passed various muggle shops, bright, colorful displays in their windows.

"There's a little tea shop down the road. It's got most lovely jasmine tea." She responded. Soon stopping in front of a simple, clean storefront, she entered the establishment. Blaise glimpsed a sign, which read NINA'S TEA SHOP.

The inside was almost exactly what he expected. While it wasn't as flamboyantly romantic as, say, Madam Puddifoot's in Hogsmead, it had a feminine air. Sitting down in a booth, Blaise took the left seat so he faced the entrance to the shop.

Hermione settled into her seat, looking around the shop. She had discovered it one day as she wandered around London, and was delighted to find it so close to the Leaky Caldron.

Blaise and Hermione spoke in muted voices, as soft music played overhead. They discussed their classes together (arthrimicy, and potions) and their peers, studiously avoiding talking about either Harry or Draco. Hermione's birthday had been the day before, and Blaise hid his anger. He had wanted, more than anything, to spend the day with her as she turned eighteen. His own birthday had been a week and a half before, and she had crept into his room under Potter's cloak. He knew, even if he did get into the Gryffindor common room, the staircase to the girl's dorm would only turn into a slide. Spending the day with her was out of the question, with both his friends and hers watching.

But he would make up for it today. As the waitress approached their booth, Blaise ordered a pot of Jasmine tea, and a plate of treats.

"I don't suppose you serve a good Italian roast coffee here, do you?" Blaise asked hopefully, ignoring Hermione's snort of amusement.

The waitress gave him a long stare, before turning away, distain painted across her features.

"We really need to break you of this coffee addiction." Hermione said, smiling.

"_Cara_, I've been drinking coffee since I was thirteen. I don't plan on stopping any time soon."

Their tea was soon served, and Hermione was delighted at both the tea and the small assortment of cakes that Blaise ordered. She looked worried at first, until he flashed the muggle currency at her, which he had exchanged via owl that morning.

As the cakes disappeared and the tea dwindled to its dregs, Blaise reached across the table and took her hands in his.

"_Cara_," he said quietly, seriously, "I'd like to ask you something. I know, with the war brewing, it's not possible to openly be with you. I want to, so, so badly. I want to stop every other wizard from looking at you; from thinking they have a chance with you. But with the Death Eaters doing their best to recruit me, and the Order already having already gotten a hold of you," he paused, trying to bury the disgust in his voice. They'd argued about her participation in the coming war, and this wasn't the time for it. "it's not safe for you and I to announce our relationship." Hermione nodded sadly at this point, stroking his fingers with her own.

"But I want to ask you something. When this Gods- forsaken war is over, and I can know you're safe, will you marry me?" Hermione's eyes widened comically as he reached into his coat pocket. Pulling out a long, velvet box, he snapped it open. Inside, dangling on a delicate chain, was a large silver ring. It was obviously sized to fit a man, and had the initials _B.A.Z._ inscribed on the surface. Hermione instantly recognized it as the family ring he always wore. Confused, she looked at his other hand, which rested in hers. The fingers were bare.

"I read up on muggle promise rings, and realized there are some differences between muggle and wizarding traditions. In the magical world, when a wizard intends to marry a witch, he gives her his family ring. She wears it around her neck every day until he can formally propose properly. There's also a charm I found, which allows only the members of the couple to see the ring. It was invented in the 1700's, when there were a lot of secret marriages, because one or both parts of the couple were in arranged engagements, already." It was one of the longest speeches Hermione had ever heard him speak. Even when Blaise had first told her he loved her, he had simply come out and said it.

"But Blaise, won't people notice your ring is gone?" Hermione asked, afraid to take his ring if it would put him in danger.

Reaching into his pocket again, he drew out an identical ring. However, when he tapped it against the metal of the tea tray, it emitted a dull, metallic clunk. Taking the true ring into his hand, he repeated the procedure, and the ring gave a high, clear sound, like a bell being struck. Seeing this, Hermione's eyes teared up. Blaise, worried at her distress, quickly cupped her face in his hands.

"Hermione, if you don't want to get married, that's okay. I know it's a big choice, but you can always tell me no. I just wanted to show you I'm serious about this relationship. Please, _cara_, don't cry. Don't cry." His normally smooth voice was rough with emotion, and Hermione quickly spoke through her tears, easing his mind.

"No, Blaise it's not that. But what if one of us dies in the war? I know you're working to stay neutral, but the Death Eaters won't keep taking 'no' for an answer. And if you died, and I was only left with your ring, I don't know what I would do." At that, Hermione's tears spilled over, sweeping down her cheeks.

Ignoring his Slytherin instincts, he slid out of his side of the booth and into hers, putting his back to the door. Gathering Hermione into his arms once more, he crooned into her hair, "Darling, it's okay. No one is going to die. This war won't last forever, and we're both smart enough to stay alive…you already know what I want you to do-" he was cut off by Hermione's retort, a mix of anger and sadness.

"Blaise, I'm not going to Italy. I won't run away from a cause that means something to me." Her tone of voice implied this was an old argument, and it was.

Exhaling a long breath, his mouth tightened. This was supposed to be a happy moment for them, and he could always try to persuade her into it later.

"All right, Hermione, all right. But will you wear the ring?" The normally impassive look drained from his eyes, and Hermione saw how much this meant to him.

"Yes, Blaise, I'll wear your ring." She moved her hair away so he could clasp the chain around her neck.

Pulling out his wand, he cast a notice- me- not charm, and then turned to Hermione. Pointing the wand at the ring and chain, he whispered "_Oculus__Effugio__Anulus Amado_." His wand emitted a warm golden glow, which entered the ring and chain, making it glow briefly. The glow soon faded, and Hermione looked at him in confusion. "It roughly means 'eyes flee away from this ring of love.'"

The young couple sat in the booth, talking and laughing, until the sun began to fade outside. "We better get back," Hermione murmured. With a reluctant nod, Blaise slid out of the booth. The couple exited the shop, stepping out into the cool evening air.

They soon reached the alley Blaise had first apparated from. "You go first. I'll wait ten minutes, then follow. And _cara_?" he paused, before kissing her like his life depended on it. Pulling away before the kiss could get too heated, he whispered in her ear, "Happy birthday."


End file.
